


Fareeha Amari: a Change of Plans

by NemoTheSurvivor



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Jesse McCree, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemoTheSurvivor/pseuds/NemoTheSurvivor
Summary: Fareeha believed she had a plan for her future. She'd join Overwatch, fight alongside McCree, and prove to her mother that she deserved to be a soldier. However, even the best laid plans of mice and men go awry, forcing Fareeha to find another path in life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before, during, and after the Fall of OW, and ends before Fareeha joins Helix Security International.

Zürich always looked lovely this time of year. However, Fareeha did not fly to Switzerland just to gawk at the scenery. No, the reason she booked a last minute flight from Egypt was personal. The large building in front of Fareeha, the headquarters of Overwatch, reminded her of this. It hurt staring at the building, but simply standing outside wouldn't help. Sighing, Fareeha walked through the double doors that non-agents used.

The woman at the front desk didn't look up as Fareeha approached. "Sign this form," she said, mechanically handing a paper to Fareeha. "Someone will contact you when an appointment is available."

"I am here to see Jesse McCree," Fareeha said, leaning against the counter. "My name is Fareeha Amari."

"It does not matter why you're here," the receptionist said with a sigh. "Please, just sign the paperwork Ms. Ama–" The receptionist paused, looking up. "You said your name was Amari?"

"I did," Fareeha said.

"Just a moment," the receptionist said. She stood up and rushed behind a door. A few seconds later, she walked back out, followed by an older man.

The man recognized Fareeha and gave her a warm smile. "Same room he's always in," he said, handing Fareeha a VIP badge.

"Thank you," Fareeha said. "Will I need an escort?"

"Nonsense," the man said, waving dismissively. "Welcome home."

Fareeha nodded in thanks before walking towards the barracks. McCree's room was the seventh on the left. Fareeha knocked on the door. "Jesse," she said. No response. After several seconds, Fareeha knocked on the door again, harder and faster. "Jesse, open the door." Again, silence greeted her. Fareeha sighed, thinking. She remembered the secret knock the two shared. An old movie where an archeologist would risk life and limb for his fedora, a sentiment that McCree could relate to, gave them the idea. Fareeha knocked, attempting to recreated the theme song for _Indiana Jones_. After a couple of seconds of nothing, she stopped, hand on the door.

Fareeha waited for a moment. Nothing but silence greeted her. Fareeha sighed, removing her hand from the door. The door slid open, revealing McCree–with his mechanical arm, something he had not told Fareeha about. The two looked at each other for a second before Fareeha stepped into the room and hugged McCree. The façade crumbled as Fareeha's breath started to catch in her throat. The two stepped back, sitting on McCree's bed as the door shut, holding each other close. Fareeha's breathing turned into sobs, tears springing from her eyes. She could feel McCree's tears on her shoulder, though he was not sobbing as much.

Fareeha opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come out of her mouth. Jesse tried to speak as well, but his breath caught in his throat. After the failed conversation, the two held each other tighter. The reunion, normally a cause for celebration, was soured by the reason for Fareeha's visit.

Ana Amari died during an operation, and Fareeha arrived in Switzerland to attend her mother's funeral.

* * *

"Ana Amari." Reinhardt stood on a raised stage, his voice booming over the gathered crowd. Morrison and Reyes sat on stage behind Reinhardt, both looking emotionally drained. Fareeha looked at them with envy, knowing they knew her mother better. "Many knew her as the one of Overwatch's best snipers. However, we know Ana was more than just a soldier. She was a protector, devoting her life to keeping the world safe. A personification of Wedjat." Reinhardt gestured towards the crowd. "All of you have experienced this protection firsthand."

Fareeha bent over, squeezing her eyes shut. Every time Reinhardt said Ana "was" something, said that people "knew" her, Fareeha's heart skipped a beat. McCree, who was sitting next to her, placed his hand on Fareeha's. Fareeha focused on the warm touch, blocking everything out.

"Fareeha." Fareeha looked up as McCree put a mechanical hand on her shoulder. "The speech ended a while ago. You feelin' okay?"

"I didn't realize it was over," Fareeha said, shaking her head.

"Figured," McCree said, standing up. "Look, couple buddies o' mine are treatin' me to a buffet. Pretty sure they wouldn't mind if you tagged along."

"I don't thing if I can eat right now," Fareeha said.

"Never said anythin' about eatin'," McCree said, holding out his hand.

Fareeha looked up, into McCree's eyes. She found compassion. "Right," Fareeha said, taking McCree's hand.

* * *

Fareeha stared at the strange people sitting at the table. McCree sat on her left. Next to him was Lena "Tracer" Oxton, the face on the best selling Overwatch poster, who was currently blabbering about her taste in music. A gorilla–or scientist, depending on who you asked–named Winston sat directly across from Fareeha, doing his best to tone out Lena. Next was Torbjörn, perched on top of a hastily build booster seat. Finally, between Torbjörn and Fareeha, Dr. Zeigler sat with an amused smile at Lena's cheerful attitude.

After the waiter came by with their drinks, most of the agents gathered around the table stood and started hunting for food. When Fareeha tried to stand, McCree put a hand on her shoulder. "Take a load off," he said. "I know what you like."

"If you insist," Fareeha said, waving McCree off. She noticed Dr. Zeigler, who was currently standing, promptly sat back down. McCree walked off, leaving the two women alone. Wanting to act first, Fareeha extended her hand. "Dr. Zeigler, is it?" Fareeha asked.

"Please, call me Angela," she replied, shaking Fareeha's hand. "McCree has told me a lot about you."

"And he spoke about you as well," Fareeha said.

"Only good things, I hope," Angela said.

"I believe he described you as a mad scientist and a hypocrite," Fareeha said. She lifted her hands in a defenseless gesture as she added, "Unless you happen to have a sister who is also a doctor."

Angela laughed, a light giggle that seemed more appropriate for a teenager. "No, I am the mad scientist," she said, shrugging. "I saved a life by building a dying man a new cyborg body, and joining a militaristic organization certainly doesn't seem sensible for a doctor wanting peace. McCree calls it as he sees it, so I do not blame him. Besides, this is the best place for me to save lives, so it does not bother me. Of course, people tend to warm up to me after I save their life, and McCree is no exception. Now I'm his favorite doctor. Always requests me after…" Angela trailed off after catching the look of panic cross Fareeha's face. "What is it?"

"You saved McCree's life?" Fareeha asked, turning in her chair to face Angela fully. The doctor nodded. "When did this happen?"

"About four months ago," Angela said. "I happened to be in the field when an explosion severely injured McCree. He was very lucky, as he only lost his arm instead of his li– Oh!" Angela was interrupted when Fareeha stood up and hugged Angela. "Where did this come from?"

" _Shukraan jazilaan_ , Angela," Fareeha said, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Thank you for saving him." Angela returned the hug, allowing Fareeha time to recompose herself.

The two remained in the hug for several seconds. "What'd I miss?" McCree asked, setting a plate down in front of Fareeha's chair. Before either woman could answer, Lena joined in on the hug. "C'mon, sugarplum, let them have their moment," McCree drawled.

"Right," Lena said, suddenly seated in her chair. "Sorry 'bout that."

Fareeha and Angela finally separated. McCree leaned over and asked in a low voice, "Care to explain why you're getting' friendly with the doctor?"

Fareeha pointed at McCree's arm. "I was just thanking her for saving you."

"Funny how fate works," McCree said, sitting down. He motioned towards Angela, who left the table and approached the buffet. "The one doctor I badmouthed ended up savin' my hide."

Fareeha nodded, looking at the plate McCree prepared for her. On the plate were several slices of pizza, loaded with as many meat toppings it could support. "Uh, Jesse," Fareeha asked, gesturing towards her plate. "What's this?"

"Pizza," McCree said, picking up his own slice. His plate looked similar to hers.

"There's food from around the world, and you bring me pizza," Fareeha said. "Why?"

"Anythin' you eat tonight'll probably taste wrong," McCree said. "Tends to happen when people have emotional days. Figured you might as well have somethin' that tastes good, even if it tastes wrong."

Fareeha opened her mouth, but instead of arguing, sighed in agreement. "Thanks. I guess." Fareeha took a bite of pizza, noting that McCree was right, as the food tasted off. When McCree cast her a questioning glance, Fareeha gave him a thumbs up. McCree smiled and tipped his hat.

"You know, we should really put together an official Overwatch band," Lena said, pretending to play the drums with a couple of roasted chicken legs. Judging by the collective sighs and looks around the table, it was a subject Lena brought up often. Lena, unaffected by the mood shift, said, "Really, loves, it's a great idea! I'm sure if we just asked nicely–"

"Lena, stop playing with your food," Winston said, watching flecks of chicken skin scatter on the table.

"But they're drumsticks, Winston!" Lena exclaimed. " _Drumsticks_." To emphasize her point, Lena started to twirl the chicken legs in her hands. They both attempted to fly away. Lena managed to catch one, but the other flew across the table and landed in Torbjörn's soup.

Torbjörn almost fell over as the hot soup splashed over him. Angela, who was passing by as she returned to her chair, managed to keep the chair upright, shaking her head. The soup-covered dwarf glared at Lena, who looked amused. As the entire table turned to look at her, Lena started giggling before she exploded with laughter. Her laughter was contagious, and soon the entire table was joining her. Even Fareeha cracked a smile.

* * *

Fareeha walked through the armory, double checking the recent inventory. As she counted rifles, boots stomped through the hall outside. Fareeha ignored it, though she looked towards the door when more footsteps went by. As a third set of footsteps started, Fareeha left the armory to see what was going on. "Halt!" Fareeha ordered to the half dozen men running by. They all stopped, worry and confusion on their faces. "What's going on?" Fareeha asked.

"It's Overwatch HQ," one soldier said, standing at attention. "There's been an explosion. Th- the base is destroyed and–" Fareeha broke into a dead sprint towards the officer's quarters, not hearing the rest of the soldier's sentence.

There were three men and a woman in the officer's quarters, eyes glued to a news feed, when Fareeha ran into the room. The Swiss HQ was little more than a pile of rubble. Emergency personnel climbed over the destroyed building, looking for survivors. Fareeha froze, her breath stuck in her chest. " _Naqib_?" A hand clasp itself to Fareeha's shoulder.

Fareeha spun around, seeing the _Moqaddim_ standing behind her. "Sir!" said, snapping into a salute. Her commander held up his hand, a questioning look on his face. "I have a lot of friends that live there," Fareeha said, gesturing towards the screen–and the ruined base.

"I understand," the _Moqaddim_ said. "Which is why I'm relieving you of duty for the rest of the week."

Fareeha stared at the _Moqaddim_. It wasn't a punishment, and she knew it. "Thank you, sir." The _Moqaddim_ nodded before issuing orders to the other officers. Fareeha's phone beeped. She pulled it out, seeing a new text from an unknown number. _I was stateside when it happened. Don't know who made it out. Can't make it to help. Can't be seen studying Overwatch news. Keep me updated –Rustler_. McCree was safe. The knowledge of it, even though Fareeha knew he left Overwatch months earlier, lifted a giant weight off Fareeha's shoulders. The news started spouting estimated casualties, and Fareeha focused on the feed.

* * *

It took several days, but they finally released a final count. Over half of the staff died in the initial blast, with half of the survivors dying of their injuries. McCree asked for specific people. Dr. Zeigler, Lena, and Winston were deployed on a mission, while Torbjörn took a personal day and visited Reinhardt. All of them, including Reinhardt in his Crusader armor, assisted with the rescue operations. However, Reyes and Morrison were both still missing.

On the fifth day after the explosion, Fareeha stepped into the officer's quarters, checking the news as she had done since the bombing. She sipped her coffee as the news listed several possible reasons the headquarters exploded, though Fareeha ignored them. The news shifted to the recently found, and after five days, almost all of the people found were dead.

Fareeha read the names as they started scrolling, though she didn't get very far before stopping dead in her tracks. "No," she whispered. The faint sound of a cup smashing to the ground did nothing to bring Fareeha out of her trance. She focused entirely on the two names at the top of the screen.

_Strike Commander Jack Morrison – Deceased._

_Commander Gabriel Reyes – Deceased._

Fareeha stared at the screen for several minutes until another officer managed to shake her out of her trance. She pulled out her phone, getting ready to call McCree, before noticing the broken cup and spilled coffee on the ground. The other officer held some paper towels and practically shoved Fareeha out the door, urging her to make the call.

"Jesse," Fareeha said as soon as she was alone. "I just saw Reyes and Morrison's names listed."

"I know," McCree replied. "Heard word from Tracer 'bout three minutes ago." McCree's next words were unintelligible, and were not said to Fareeha. "I gotta go. We'll talk later." The phone beeped as the call ended. Fareeha stood alone for several minutes, hoping for McCree to call back, though she knew he wouldn't be able to.

* * *

Fareeha used to believe she had a plan for her life. In less than a year, that plan failed. Her mother was dead, McCree disappeared off the face of the earth, and Overwatch was no more. Fareeha was still in the military, but her entire reason for joining was gone. Others took notice that Fareeha was no longer slated to join Overwatch, however, and they pestered her in an attempt to recruit her.

Fareeha sat at a café, her military reenlistment papers laying on the table. An empty cup of coffee held them down in the slight wind. "Excuse me." Fareeha turned to face the voice. A woman in a suit stood respectfully next to the table. _Another recruiter_ , Fareeha thought. The woman started to introduce herself. "My name–"

"Stop," Fareeha said, holding up her hand. "Who do you work for, and have they approached me before? I did not invite you to sit with me."

The woman, who started to pull out the chair across from Fareeha, froze. "Helix Security International," the woman said, pushing the chair back in. "We've sent letters to you before, but I am the first representative."

Fareeha looked over the woman. American, most likely, and holding a briefcase that was no doubt filled with propaganda for HSI. "What does Helix do?" Fareeha asked.

"Helix Security International is a private security firm," the woman said. "We use state of the art security systems and the best trained personnel to maintain top of the line security. And because we are an international company, we are well versed in handling teams comprised of multiple nationalities and can transfer teams from one country to another with minimal paperwork. Not unlike–"

"Finish that sentence and this conversation is over," Fareeha said, glaring. A common strategy, comparing a corporation to Overwatch. It annoyed Fareeha every time.

"Of course," the woman said. Fareeha's stare unnerved her, and the woman took a moment to compose herself. "Helix Security International would like if you would consider joining us." Fareeha stared at the woman for another moment, eyes flicking occasionally to the paperwork on the table. _Not like I have other options_. Fareeha gestured to the chair across from her. "Thank you." The woman sat down, setting a large briefcase on the table. "That's a beautiful tattoo," the woman said, looking at Fareeha's Eye of Horus. "Why someone would want a needle that close to their eye is beyond me, but the results are almost always spectacular."

"Why should I choose Helix?" Fareeha asked, ignoring the woman's comment.

The woman opened her briefcase and pulled out a small model. "This is the Raptora Mk. V," the woman said. "Designed to increases the user's survivability in combat. Requires specialized training in order to use. Prototype technology you won't find anywhere else." _Especially since Overwatch is now disbanded._ The thought went unspoken between the two.

Fareeha looked over the Raptora model. "What's your offer?" she asked, fiddling with the arms.

"Starting salary double your current pay," the woman said. "After five years, you can test into the Command Applicant Program to start the process to become a field officer. You'd be considered for Raptora training, and would be automatically added to every pool of candidates."

Fareeha eyed the woman for a moment, weighing her options. "Here's the deal," Fareeha said, leaning forward. "I have recently decided that I will not reenlist in the military." To emphasize the point, Fareeha balled up the reenlistment paperwork. "Since you're here first, I'm willing to work with you. Start me as a field officer, and I want a Raptora."

"But–" the woman stopped her argument immediately, her facial expressions showing that someone else was talking to her.  The earpiece in her ear blinked twice. The woman composed herself, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath. "There is normally a pay rise that comes with acceptance in the Command Applicant Program, so the delay is because of eligibility for this new level of pay. There's also a level of hazard pay that goes to all experimental and prototype armament users, including the Raptora suits, and the amount is desirable enough that Helix Security International would prefer potential candidates are added to a pool before being randomly selected. If you are willing to take an advanced position without the pay to match, then–"

"I don't care about the money," Fareeha said. "Make me an officer, and put me in the Raptora."

The woman paused, unsure of how to respond. After a moment's hesitation, where she was most likely getting orders from her superior, she said, "The restrictions will be in the contract, but I believe I can meet your demands." The woman put the Raptora model away. "The first draft of the contract will be sent by mail. If you have not received it after eight weeks, stop by the nearest Recruitment Station for further instruction." The woman stood and bowed. "Thank you for choosing Helix Security International."

**Author's Note:**

> Translations, courtesy of Google Translate (if you actually speak Arabic, and have a better term, feel free to correct me):
> 
> Shukraan jazilaan – Thank you very much
> 
> Naqib – Captain
> 
> Moqaddim – Lieutenant Colonel
> 
> Yes, I am aware Pharah uses the Raptora Mk. VI in game. However, by the time Pharah does finally complete officer training and start Raptora training, the Mk. VI would be in the prototype phase. 
> 
> Traditional Islamic (the primary religion in Egypt) funerals are held as soon as possible after death (3 days maximum, IIRC), though they also rely heavily on having a body. Since Ana's body wasn't found, probably because she wasn't dead, they could not have a traditional Islamic burial. Thus, the gathering of Overwatch (and Pharah) in a grand hall.


End file.
